Falling Like Music
by smoking-tulips
Summary: <html><head></head>When his son showed and interest in ballet, Erik didn't think it would lead to anything for him. [NorMona Ballet dancer AU]</html>
1. Chapter 1

A.N: this started because an Anon sent me the idea on tumblr. It was too cute to pass up. 

* * *

><p>When Halldór had asked to join a dance group, Erik had been a little surprised to say the least. But beyond that supportive.<p>

He was glad his son was more interested in dance than violent sports that would likely just end in broken bones (unlike his nephew who seemed to favour speed and pain).

After a little research he decided an open day at a dance centre was the best bet, that way Halldór could try several types of dance and pick the one he liked the best.

Erik had to smile as Halldór bounced up and down in excitement as they waited in the grand hall.

He glanced over the various posters.  
>Tango, tap dance, ballroom, street dance, ballet, and a bunch of other dances he figured were possibly aimed more at adults.<br>"Any idea what you want to try first?" Erik asked and Halldór nodded eagerly.

"Ballet," he whispered.

"Ballet?" Erik was surprised, but went along with it. "Well then, let's find the teacher for that shall we?"

Halldór nodded again, holding onto his father's hand tightly.

The door to where ballet was being taught was clearly marked, and as they peered inside Erik figured Halldór would probably like it.  
>The majority of kids there were girls, most of them in white or pink leotards, but Erik spotted two little boys at the very end of the room.<p>

"Looks like you're not the only boy here," Erik smiled and crouched down to Halldór's level.  
>"Who don't you go in and say hi?"<p>

"No." Halldór whispered and his his face in the crook of Erik's neck, too shy to venture in alone.

"Come on, they all look very friendly," Erik patted his son's hair, hoping he'd feel more brave after talking to the other children.

"Oh, is this a potential new recruit?" A soft voice spoke and Erik looked up towards the speaker.

"Ah yes, hello," Erik stood up, Halldór now clinging firmly to his neck and refusing to let go.  
>However, as he stood up to his full height he realised just how petite the other adult was.<p>

"My name is Erik, and this is my son Halldór. He really wanted to try ballet," Erik explained as he tried to pry Halldór off himself.

"Oh that's wonderful. I'm Cécile, I run most of the ballet classes here, including this pre-ballet class for 4 to 7 year old kids," the woman held out her hand for Erik to shake.

"Pleased to meet you," Erik shook her hand and offered a half smile in her direction.  
>"Hear that little man?" Erik whispered to Halldór, "This lovely lady is the one who can teach you how to dance. Say hi."<p>

"Hi..." Halldór whispered softly to Cécile before promptly hiding his face in his father's shirt once more.

"He's a little shy around strangers... sadly got that from me," Erik sighed.

"Don't worry, most children start off like that," Cécile smiled, "Why don't you both come in and sit and watch first and then Halldór can come join when he feels like it?"

"Sounds good to me, what do you think Halldór?" Erik asked softly.

Halldór nodded eagerly, but refused to be put back down on the floor. Erik rolled his eyes and motioned for Cécile to show the way.

She moved elegantly and Erik wasn't sure who was more exited to see people dance – himself or his son.

He sat cross-legged against one wall with Halldór in his lap.  
>Cécile smiled at them before making the kids line up against the mirrored wall with a long metal bar attached to it.<p>

"Sure you don't want to go warm up with them?" Erik whispered as Cécile instructed the children to limber and warm up properly.

Halldór shook his head.

However, it didn't take long for his little feet to get restless, and with a few words of encouragement from his father, Halldór ran across the room.

"Oh how wonderful," Cécile cooed, "Class, this is Halldór, he might be joining our group, so be nice to him."

The whole class replied with a loud 'yes', which made Halldór jump. However, he had no time to run back to his father before the other kids swarmed around him to introduce himself.

Erik watched him carefully, prepared to run over and rescue his little boy if it all became too much for him.  
>Much to his delight, Halldór seemed fine with all the attention.<br>He didn't speak much, but he had yet to run back to Erik, so that was all in all a good sign.

"All right class," Cécile clapped her hands twice, "Back to your positions."

The kids mumbled but dispersed, one little girl offered her hand to Halldór and helped him line up to the wall with the rest.

Erik chuckled softly to himself as he watched Halldór struggle a little to gain his balance on one leg, but he was proud none the less.

Cécile started the music and went through each exercise over and over again.  
>She moved back and forth down the line of children, helping them regain balance or pointing out where to place their weight most effectively.<p>

Erik watched it all with a slight smile, giving Halldór the thumbs-up each time his son glanced over to him to ensure his father was still there.  
>However, Erik realised there was little to worry over and he smiled to himself at the sight of Halldór's intense look of concentration. <p>

By the end of the session Halldór was ecstatic, jumping up and down excitedly and waving his hands around as he spoke to his new friends.  
>Erik recognised the tale as the story about trolls he usually told his son at night, and he felt a great sense of pride swell within him.<p>

"He's got quite the potential," Cécile told him with a smile as she handed him more information about the classes. "You'll need to buy some equipment if he wants to continue, but I think he liked it."

"Yes," Erik nodded, "I think so too, thank you for your patience," he added with a nod.

"It's no bother," Cécile smiled warmly up at him, "They're all usually very well behaved so one more child is just nice."

"Next time he might not need me here," Erik chuckled.

"Plenty children like their parents here for the first few times, so don't worry if you have to sit in next time, I don't mind."

"Thank you," Erik gave a polite nod.

"See you next time," Cécile smiled as Halldór ran over to Erik, excitedly telling his father about what he had learnt and who the other children were.

"Yes..." Erik mustered a smile in return before his attention was back to his son, eagerly listening to his stories even if he had witnessed every exercise and dance-based game Halldór had done.

Three days later they both returned, this time Halldór had all the appropriate gear he needed.  
>He had insisted on the black leotard, but in terms of shoes he refused to even try on anything else but the pink ones.<br>Erik hadn't even tried to argue. He was far to busy dotting over his son who was trying to do do pirouettes across the floor.

"Nice choice of shoes," Cécile smiled and held her own foot out towards Halldór's. "We match," she added with a laugh.  
>"Yes," Halldór nodded shyly and hid behind Erik's legs.<p>

"He wanted them because they looked like yours," Erik confirmed and ruffled his sons hair.

"I am going to be shy today," Halldór whispered to his father, although Cécile heard him loud and clear too.

"That's fine," Erik whispered back, "I'm not going yet."

Cécile smiled as she watched Erik comb Halldór's hair with his fingers with such love and devotion she almost felt like she was imposing on their moment simply by being in the same room.

However, it seemed to do the trick, because Halldór had little problems running over to his new friends once Erik had given his a little pep talk.

Cécile shook her head. Some people were just lucky.

She didn't mind that Halldór brought his dad with him.  
>The boy wasn't good with new faces, and even people he had spoken to just a few days ago had to be re-evaluated before he trusted them enough to talk.<p>

"Is he always this shy?" Cécile asked during their mid-training break.  
>"Yes, takes a good year for him to truly trust someone, hence why I've given up on babysitters..." Erik shrugged.<p>

"Must be hard for your and your partner," Cécile sighed.  
>"No, just hard for me," Erik chuckled.<p>

"Oh?" Cécile's love for gossip made her perk up, as rude as it might be.

"Divorced," Erik said bluntly and held his hand up to show there were no rings, "Nothing else, we just didn't work together as anything more than friends."  
>"Oh, I'm sorry,"<br>"Don't be. She's happy, I'm happy and Halldór is happy. There's no issues with anything really."

"Still... being a single father must be tough,"  
>"Nah, no harder than a single mother," Erik laughed softly, "I work from home anyway, so it's more than manageable."<p>

"Ah I see," Cécile smiled, "Still, admirable."  
>"Thank you, but it's nothing short of what I should do."<p>

"Just take the damned compliment," Cécile laughed.

"Fine," Erik smirked, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she replied with a smile of her own.

They watched the children run around the room, screams of delight as some of them engaged in a game of tag while some others where playing by the mirrors, making faces and laughing happily at one another's expressions.

"May I ask what it is you do for a living?" Cécile inquired after a while.

"I'm an illustrator," Erik replied, "Anything from small booklets for official companies to full pages for children's books."

"Oh, that explains Halldór's stories then," Cécile laughed softly.

"Yes, I think he's my biggest fan."

"Rightly so," she nodded.

Cécile watched the children play for a minute before clapping her hands and restoring order once more.

"Right, positions please," she said and lined up, "Time to do one more exercise before I let you home."

Erik took a seat on the floor, momentarily tearing his eyes of the little dancers and their instructor to sketch a few figures in his little sketchbook.

Cécile was the most interesting to draw, but he refrained from spending too much time studying her movement just in case it came of as wrong.

Halldór came tumbling over to him at the end of the class, crawling into his lap and peering into his sketchbook.

"Oi, move little man or I can't get up," Erik frowned and blew air at the back of Halldór's head.  
>"I wanna see what you drew," Halldór said and grabbed the sketchbook from Erik's hands.<p>

"You can see when we get home and you've had a bath," Erik replied sternly, "We can't sit here all day."

"Well you can but then you have to help me clean," Cécile said from across the room and winked at Erik, who promptly went a few shades of pink and ducked his head down to avoid her spotting it.

"We could do that," Erik smiled and lifted Halldór off him, placing him back down on the floor before standing up and dusting his trousers off.  
>"What do you need help with?"<p>

"Oh," Cécile was to embarrassed now to admit it had been a joke, "You could sweep the floor so it's ready for the next class, but only if it's not too much bother..."

"Where do you keep the broom?" Erik smiled.

"Out to the corridor and down to your left, second door on the right is where all cleaning supplies are kept," Cécile pointed.  
>Erik nodded and left the room, and Cécile realised she was now alone with Halldór.<p>

The little boy was humming to himself as he flipped through the pages of his father's sketchbook, lost in his own little world of an imaginative five year old.

Cécile watched him flip through, captivated by the amount of life the lines held.

"Wow," she said, realising too late she had spoken out loud.

"Dad makes pretty art," Halldor said and held the book up for her to look at, "Look, he made a princess!"

Cécile took he sketchbook with great care and studied the drawing.  
>Her cheeks flushed red as she realised the 'princess' in question was a ballerina and held an uncanny resemblance to herself. From the shape of her glasses to the length of her plait.<p>

"It's very nice," she said softly and handed the book back.

"Dad draws really good dragons and trolls too," Halldór said, shyness long forgotten as he showed off his father's artwork.  
>Cécile wasn't sure what made her more happy, the pride on Erik's face over his son's dancing or the look of pride and admiration Halldór held for his father.<br>'How dare they be so cute?' she thought to herself.

"This the one?" Erik interrupted her thoughts as he returned with a broom.

"Ah, yes, Thank you," Cécile smiled, finding the situation a little strange.  
>Although it was nice.<br>Halldór placed the book into his father's bag and ran across the floor, eager to help Erik clean.

Cécile watched them sweep the dance floor, Erik doing a very neat job while simultaneously praising Halldór for helping – although Cécile wasn't really sure sitting on the broom counted as helping.

"There," he said once the whole surface was as good as dust and dirt free, "All done I think. Does it look okay?"

"Yes, thank you very much," Cécile thanked him in earnest, "And thank you too Halldór," she bent down a little to praise the little boy, who for once smiled very sweetly up at her with no hesitation.

"I'd love to stay and help more, but this little man needs his dinner and a bath," Erik apologised.

"No, no, that's fine. I'll see you both on Friday."

"Yes," Erik said, "Unless this brave dancer dares to go alone."

"Of course I do," Halldór stuck his tongue out at his father, but Erik just laughed and ruffled his hair.

"Good, good," Cécile laughed.

She was almost glad when they both left, relieved to have a few minutes to herself to sort out her thoughts.  
>Honestly, she was a grown woman, there was no need to feel such silly things as butterflies in her stomach.<p>

Erik was divorced and a father.  
>Cécile had no intentions of ruining the adorable family relationship the two of them had.<br>Yet, she couldn't help but feel a little jealous over the love the two of them had for one another.  
>A picture perfect relationship really, and Cécile really wished she could have something like it too.<p>

There wasn't much time to ponder the thought, she had other classes to teach before she could go home.  
>Dance and music were perfect to lose yourself in, all attention of the rhythm and her own body.<p>

By the time all her students were home and the rooms were clean and locked up, Cécile was tired and ready for a hot bath and a nice meal.

Take out in front of the TV didn't really appeal to her, nor did cooking anything complicated, so in the end Cécile settled for left over lasagne.

Her feet were aching but it was all worth it.  
>The children's faces when they mastered a new move, or how much joy dance brought to their faces never stopped making her smile.<p>

Each class was important, and she wouldn't trade her job away for anything else right now.

However; it was almost unfair how cute Erik and Halldór were.  
>Cécile pressed a pillow to her face and tried to stop thinking about both of them.<p>

It was like watching a painfully cheesy and family friendly movie she decided.  
>But god damn it, she couldn't look away.<p>

What was worse; she found herself looking forward to Friday more so than she looked forward to the weekend.  
>How pathetic," she muttered to herself.<p>

Halldór attended two more sessions with Erik in tow, each time his father was nothing short of pleasant if not a little quiet.

After that Cécile only saw Erik when he dropped off and picked Halldór back up after the lessons.

She found herself making excuses of some sorts to talk to him.

"Halldór did really well today," or "Halldór has gotten a lot better."  
>Little comments that she noticed made Erik almost beam with pride.<p>

However, her triumphant moment was when she approached the both of them at the end of Friday's session.

"Ever heard of Per Gynt?" She asked.

"Ah yes. I'm familiar with the story," Erik nodded.

"And the ballet dance that goes with it?" she added.

"Eh, no..."

"Look it up," Cécile smiled warmly, "It has trolls," she winked at Halldór, giggling softly as she saw his face light up.

The following Tuesday Halldór came skipping into the room, humming a tune Cécile recognised almost far too well.

"In the hall of the mountain king?" she asked Erik as he stepped inside the dance hall with Halldór's bag of gear.

"Yes. He's demanded it be on repeat all weekend..."

"Oh, I'm sorry,"

"Nah," Erik shrugged, "Don't be. I rather like the music."

"Oh that's good. I was worried I'd have to buy you dinner to make up for it," she laughed, but promptly stopped when she noticed Erik was blushing.

"Uh, no need," he replied hurriedly.

This was honestly too much for her poor heart to handle.

"You're ridiculously cute," she giggled and placed a hand gently on his shoulder.

"Well Halldór had to get that too from someone," Erik laughed a little nervously, avoiding her gaze for a moment.

"Seems you gave him a lot of things,"

"Part from love of dancing. I was never that good at it myself," Erik shrugged, "But I'm glad he's enjoying himself. If it makes him happy then it's worth it."

"He could go far if he wanted to," Cécile praised. Halldór was a bright little boy, and once everyone got past the initial shyness he was talkative and energetic.

"That would be something," Erik chuckled, "I'd love to see him be able to move as gracefully as you."

"Why thank you," Cécile felt a little blush spread across her cheeks. Maybe she should ask him out for a drink.

"You're creative in other ways,"

"Suppose so. Drawing is at least something to take pride in."

"You're good," Cécile added, "Halldór showed me a lot of the ones in your little sketchbook," although she didn't mention seeing the sketch of herself.

"Heh," Erik let out an amused sigh, "Yeah. It keeps me occupied. I prefer to people-watch than actively interact with everyone around me, and with a drawing pad I can interact slowly at my own pace. Draw what I like and what I find interesting."

"So whenever inspiration strikes?"

"Yes," Erik nodded, "It can happen anywhere and any time, and artist is always prepared," he patted the pockets in his jacket and gave her a small smile.

"I'm not even going to ask how many pens and pencils you carry," she laughed.

"I don't know myself..." Erik said as he patted himself down somewhat, "At least ten, maybe more,"

"Goodness, where are you when I need you at the bank or something?"

"Probably at home slumped over my desk with a cup of coffee," Erik smiled slyly.

"Pft, I don't doubt that for some reason," Cécile tried to hide her smile behind her hand.

"Anyway, let me not keep you or your students up and more, I'll come pick my little troll up later,"  
>"Don't worry," Cécile smiled warmly at him, "I'll make sure he's not turned to stone by the time you come back."<p>

"Oh don't worry about that. At least if he's stone I can get him to bed a lot easier," Erik winked at her before waving goodbye to his son.

Cécile sighed softly once he'd left.

She was crushing on him badly, and the severity of the damned butterflies was beginning to dawn on her.

With a deep breath she made up her mind; she would ask him to join her for dinner or a drink.


	2. Chapter 2

Mustering up the courage to ask Erik out was a whole other story than just accepting she was badly crushing on the man.  
>Every time she thought she had talked herself into being brave enough she backed out at the last minute.<p>

No time ever seemed to be the right time.

She didn't have the heart or guts to interrupt Halldór and him when he came to pick them up, but it was really the only time she had time to talk to him for longer than a few seconds.

Cécile sighed as she braided her hair in front of the large dance hall mirror.

'Maybe it wasn't mean to be?' she thought to herself.

Her self pitying was interrupted by a familiar set of footsteps walking down the hallway, she knew who they belonged to long before they entered the dance hall.

"Hi!" Halldór said brightly as he skipped inside, Erik close behind as he offered her a smile and a little wave.

"You're early," Cécile remarked, a little surprised as Erik was usually dead on time these days.

"Ah yes, sorry if it's a problem I just have a favour to ask," Erik scratched the back of his head and looked a little embarrassed.

"Oh," Cécile was certain the butterflies in her stomach had all turned to stone. "What is it?"

"Could you maybe keep Halldór here for a little while linger after the lesson?" Erik asked softly, glancing over at Halldór who was busy dancing to himself in front of the mirror. "I have a meeting with a publisher and I doubt I'll be finished in time to pick him up at five."

"Ah I see..." Cécile tapped her index finger against her chin and smiled softly, "I think I can manage that," she giggled, the butterflies back to full force.

"Thank you so much," Erik looked visibly relieved and less tense. "I'll try to get away as soon as possible, but sometimes I can't leave as early as I want to," he sighed.

"No, no, I understand," she smiled, "Don't worry, he can join in or sit and watch the older group's lesson. One little boy won't be a problem at all," Cécile reassured him.

"Thank you," Erik sighed in relief, "I'll make it up to you."

"I'm sure you will," Cécile suppressed a grin, mustering a warm smile in its place. 

"Halldór," Erik turned to his son, "You behave until I come back, okay?"

Halldór turned and nodded eagerly at his father.

"Good man," Erik smiled and waved goodbye.

Cécile watched him leave, pondering what she would do with Halldór once the class was over.  
>He was well-behaved, so she wasn't worried he'd run off, but she still worried he'd object to being left for longer than usual.<p>

"Excited for today then?" she asked him, crouching down to get a little closer to his eye level.

Halldór nodded.

"Maybe you can help plan the Christmas dance afterwards too?"

More eager nodding from Halldór, which made Cécile smile.

"Good, someone has to tell me how to make trolls look real,"

"We're gonna have trolls?" Halldór asked, eyes wide but voice low.

"Yes. I figured your group could do a little dance from your favourite show,"

"Troll king," Halldór whispered.

"Yes, everyone loves the music, so I'm sure a few tails on your outfits will be welcomed,"

"Yes," Halldór nodded, "Tails and unruly hair and dirt everywhere!" he threw his hands up in the air.

"Is that what trolls look like?" Cécile smiled, amused by how easily Halldór spoke about fantasy creatures.

"Yes. Dad says I look like a troll child every time I've been playing in the garden or when I've had a nap," he replied and nodded as if those things were scientific facts.

"I see," Cécile giggled. "Your father must be a troll expert,"

"He is, he's fought them many times!" Halldór smiled proudly.

"Ahhh, of course," she smiled. A wild imagination in someone so young was a given, but Cécile was certain Erik was fuelling Halldór's fantasies more so than most parents.

"They're sneaky, even if they're big. So you have to be careful when it's dark," Halldór explained.

"I will keep that in mind," she nodded in return. "You're clearly the expert," she added with a smile.

"No. Dad is. But I'm second in command!" Halldór bounced up and down as he spoke. It never failed to impress her just how much energy small children had.

"Of course," Cécile nodded wisely, as if such a statement was common knowledge. Feed their imagination, that was what she believed.

However, when Halldór proceed to ramble on about how one properly caught trolls, Cécile couldn't help but maybe think Erik should perhaps tone down the fantasy stories by a fraction.  
>He only stopped talking when the other children arrived, but Cécile caught him whispering to some of the other children during practise about his newest adventure with creatures no one else ever saw.<p>

His imagination was at least useful to get everyone excited for the upcoming parental performance.  
>If Halldór's tall tales of trolls and faeries didn't get the others excited for The Hall of the Mountain king then nothing would.<p>

Much to her surprise, the next class of older children also got dragged into his imaginary world of troll hunting.  
>Veronique, an 11 year old girl who Cécile was certain would go incredibly far in ballet (and not just because they were related), had Halldór chatting about his adventures as a brave warrior within a minute of meeting him.<p>

Cécile had to stifle a giggle as Veronique let Halldór braid her long dark hair. It didn't turn out very nice, but she praised him none the less.  
>With six years between them Cécile would have pegged them to be as different as night and day – yet Veronique seemed to be more than content to keep Halldór occupied while she continued helping the others with their practise.<p>

"I'm sorry you got stuck with babysitting him," Cécile apologised to her once the lesson was over.  
>"Oh no. Don't be. He's so cute and I never get the chance to be a big sister to anyone!" Veronique laughed and ruffled Halldór's pale hair.<p>

"Veronique is a princess," Halldór whispered.

"What?" Veronique gave him a stern glare, "Why aren't I queen?"

"Cécile is queen," Halldór whispered back and pointed to the older woman.

"Oh, Fair enough," Veronique laughed, "I can accept that."

"Who's king then?" Cécile inquired with a light smile, uncertain why Halldór had assigned royal titled to them but too curious to let it just slide by her.

"Dad of course," Halldór said and tried to look stern.

"Oohh," Veronique whispered, a wide grin spread across her face as her gaze moved from Halldór to Cécile.

Cécile had seen that grin before.  
>Veronique's father (and her brother Francis) possessed that very same smile. Of course Veronique had inherited it.<p>

"That means Cécile and your dad are married," Veronique whispered slyly to Halldór, although Cécile heard every word, her cheeks flaring a bright pink at the words.

"Hmmm," Halldór scrunched up his face into a frown, "That's not bad is it?" he asked them both, his mind failing to see why this was an issue at all.

"Not at all," Veronique singsonged happily.

Halldór giggled happily, unaware of Cécile's burning cheeks or Veronique's knowing smirk.

"I assume Halldór has told you all about his groups dance recital?" Cécile cleared her throat and hoped to diverge both the children's attention.

"Oh yes. The Hall of the Troll king?" Veronique's eyes lit up.

"Mountain King," Cécile corrected, "You were close enough."

"Ah yes," Veronique nodded, "He told me. I'm so excited for it. I'd love to dance as a scary troll lady or something,"

"Oh..." Cécile paused, "I thought your group was doing something from Swan lake..."

"Psht," Veronique snorted, "That's old and overdone. I think we should all do something with trolls. It sounds great,"

"Okay..." Cécile sighed, she really had brought it upon herself.  
>"I suppose we could do a Per Gynt themed performance for all the groups," a little adaptation would be necessary to make it work for the youngest members, but none the less; it could work.<p>

All of this just because she tried impressing one single father.

"Yay!" Veronique threw her arms up in the air, and Halldór followed suit, although he hadn't quite caught on to what they where cheering for yet.

"We're going to need new costumes for everyone then," Cécile mumbled to herself.

"Dad can probably help," Veronique interrupted.

"Probably," Cécile replied, "But I'll need more than him. Francis is good at making clothes, but designing a whole array of costumes for ballet dancers? No. I'm not sure I can trust him with that task as well," as much as she loved her brother and his sense of fashion – Cécile didn't want to lump designing and making almost 50 costumes onto her brother. That didn't seem fair.

"We can all help maybe?" Veronique suggested.

"I might make you all find pieces of old clothing at home we can use," Cécile thought out loud, trying to figure out how many costumes could be made in one day by herself and Francis.

"I'm sure if everyone brings in some old clothes it will be easy!"

"I can tell you're my brother's daughter," Cécile laughed softly. It was always nice to have someone so chirpy and cheerful on her side.

"I'll help too!" Halldór exclaimed, making both Veronique and Cécile giggle.

"Of course you will," Cécile said with a smile, "Someone has to help us make sure we get the costumes accurate, right?"

Halldór's eyes went wide before he nodded so eagerly and excitedly that Cécile was certain he was making himself dizzy.

"Now we just have to make sure your father helps too," Cécile laughed.

"Make me help with what?" Erik's voice sounded from the doorway, and Cécile whirled around in surprise. Embarrassed that he had overheard her mention him.

"Oh hello Mr Troll Hunter!" Veronique skipped over to him and introduced herself.

"It's actually Sorensen, but hello to you too," Erik smiled and shook her hand. "I assume you've been speaking to my son..."

"Yes. We have," Veronique smiled warmly as Halldór ran over and clung tightly to his father's leg.

"That's very good of you," Erik praised and Veronique beamed with pride.

"Veronique is my niece," Cécile explained, "And I have a feeling she is making her father wait in the car a little longer than usual today..." she tapped her foot against the floor.

"But he's so cute I can't leave," Veronique whined and pointed to Halldór.

"Yes, he is," Cécile sighed, "But I can hear my phone buzzing and I bet you its your father wondering why you're not outside,"

"Fiiiiine," Veronique frowned, bending down to give Halldór a goodbye hug.  
>To Erik's great surprise Halldór happily complied.<p>

He watched as Veronique skipped out the room.  
>Taken aback at how someone like that had won his sons affection. He seldom liked such outgoing people that quickly.<p>

"Well that was an eye-opener," Erik mumbled and diverted his attention back to his son who once more was now firmly clinging to his leg.  
>"Did you make a new friend little man?"<p>

"Yes," Halldór nodded.

"Well she seems like a very nice lady,"

"She is. She's a princess,"

"Oh really?" Erik smiled.

"Yes. Cécile is queen,"

"Who's king?" Erik asked, and Cécile felt her cheeks flare up once more. She knew what was coming.

"You," Halldór laughed happily.

Erik's face took on a colour that matched Cécile's, although he tried very hard to hide it by tilting his head and hiding his face with his blonde hair.

"Oh, of course she is," he managed to stammer forward as he bent down to pick his son up.

"Thank you for looking after him," he said in earnest once he had composed himself.

"It was no bother. Veronique did most of the work for me," Cécile laughed a little nervously, trying to gather up the courage to ask him to dinner.  
>With Halldór in his arms they both towered over her, but she couldn't let it deter her.<br>Not now.  
>It was such a golden opportunity.<p>

"Still, thank you," Erik smiled, "If there's anything I can do to make it up to you then please tell me."

"Well..." Cécile smiled, taking a deep breath, "I might have one favour to ask of you in turn,"

"Of course," Erik nodded.

"Well, make it two," Cécile added thoughtfully.

"I'm all ears..."

"I'm going to need some help designing and making costumes for the upcoming parent dance recital. Would you be able to lend a hand?"

"Of course. I'm not that bad with thread and needle," Erik laughed, "I'd be happy to help."

"Fantastic, that's just what I needed to hear," Cécile smiled brightly.  
>"The second is more of a personal request,"<p>

"Uh.. okay?" Erik looked a little sceptical.

"I'd like to request that you join me for dinner, tomorrow if possible. Halldór is of course also invited," Cécile smiled, her body tense as she waited for a reply.

Erik was shocked.  
>Disbelief and surprise was plainly written on his face, and he didn't snap out of it until Halldór gently tugged at his hair.<p>

"I, uh. Well..." he stammered, flustered and unable to form a coherent sentence, "Yes," he finally managed to say, "Certainly. That would be nice," he added a little more composed and coherent.

"Wonderful!" relief washed over Cécile at his reply. "Why don't we meet outside the Cinema tomorrow and we'll walk together to the restaurant?"

"Uh, yes. Sure. How nicely should I, I mean, we dress?"

"Suits and ties if you have," Cécile winked, "I know some people you see," she giggled.

"That doesn't sound ominous at all..." Erik glanced worriedly at Halldór, "I think she's up to something," he whispered to his son, although loud enough for Cécile to still hear.

"But she's not an evil queen," Halldór whispered back.

"No. True. Shall we trust her?"

"Yes," Halldór concluded after contemplating. "If there's ice cream," he added.

"Ice cream and cakes," Cécile laughed. "Plenty of it even," she smiled at them both.

"Ah well then we're helpless," Erik sighed dramatically, "We will have to comply,"

"Ice cream!" Halldór shouted excitedly. 

"Yes yes," Erik tried to calm him.

"Meet you there at six?" Cécile suggested.

"Sure," Erik nodded, still trying to calm Halldór down. The kid now rambling on about how much ice cream he could eat.

"Wonderful," Cécile's spirit soared, the butterflies in her stomach alive and well.  
>"You behave Halldór," she smiled coyly, "Only well behaved troll hunters get ice cream," she warned, and to her surprise and Erik's delight Halldór went silent.<p>

They walked out together, Erik waiting for her to lock the doors up before he bid her farewell.

She waved at them as they drove away. Relieved and happy it had actually worked.

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained," she hummed to herself as he headed home.

She now had a little less than 24 hours to book a table, arrange and decide on her outfit and look nice for their 'date'.  
>Cécile had an extra spring in her step as she walked.<br>Maybe it was the wind or the butterflies – either way she was certain she was floating.

She hadn't been this excited for a date since her teens, and an added bonus this time was that any awkward silence would surely be filled with Halldór's stories.

This couldn't be any better, she thought to herself.  
>It was simply picture perfect. <p>


	3. Chapter 3

Trying to dress an excited five year old in what was deemed 'acceptable' for a grown up date was much more difficult than Erik had anticipated.  
>No amount of stories, pleading or even bribing could make Halldór wear his nice clothes.<p>

"They're itchy!" Halldór screamed and once more tried to hide behind the sofa.

"Where?" Erik looked at the shirt with disbelief. He had removed every single tag there was, run his fingers over every seam to check for anything that could be irritating his son's skin, yet found nothing.

"Everywhere," Halldór's muffled voice said from behind the sofa.

Erik sighed and tossed the shirt away.

"Fine," he grumbled, giving up on the nice clothes. "What do you want to wear then?" he tried, hoping if Halldór got a choice he'd at least not have to bring his son to a restaurant wearing PJ's or an over-sized sweater – both which were viable options if the five-year old's usual fashion sense was anything to go by.

Erik cursed his own sense of fashion as he tied his tie properly.  
>Halldór was doomed to wear hand-me-downs forever if he kept this thing up.<p>

"This!" Halldór said triumphantly, standing in the doorway to Erik's room holding a dress.

"Sure," Erik said with a smile, delighted that it hadn't been the dinosaur costume his uncle bought him for his last birthday.

His brother's daughter was around the same age as Halldór, and had left a lot of clothes lying around. Halldór usually just tied the dresses around his neck to look like a superhero (or bird), but tonight he was adamant a dress was the only thing he would wear.

"I'm pretty like Cécile now!" Halldór giggled and twirled around on the floor as Erik brushed his teeth.

"Yes you are," Erik replied, trying not to laugh at his son's antics too much.

"Can I wear my ballet shoes?" Halldór asked hopefully.

"No," Erik shook his head.

"Why not?" Halldór pouted.

"Because the shoes might get dirty and then you can't dance in them," Erik explained, crouching down to tame Halldór's unruly hair.

"Oh," Halldór frowned, but appeared to accept that reply.  
>Although it took Erik another ten minutes to get Halldór's nice shoes on before he could strap him into his car seat and drive into town.<p>

He almost wanted to beg Halldór to behave, but knew it would just be counterproductive.  
>Instead he lifted him out of the seat and gave him a peck to the check.<p>

"Excited?" he asked.

Halldór nodded.

"Good. So am I," Erik admitted sheepishly as he locked the car and walked towards the cinema.

He couldn't see Cécile outside, but he didn't want to walk inside yet either.

"Dad," Halldór mumbled softly into the crook of his neck. "I'm cold."

"Dresses aren't as warm as trousers when you don't want to wear anything but your underwear under them," Erik sighed and put Halldór down on the ground for a moment until he could shrug off his suit jacket and bundle his son up in it.  
>"Better?" he asked once Halldór was snuggled inside the jacket and in his arms.<p>

"Yes," Halldór giggled happily and flashed his father a toothy grin.

"Oh my, am I late?" Cécile muttered to herself as she spotted the pair down the road. Glancing at her watch she was leased to see she wasn't – Erik was simply early.

"My apologies," she said once she got close enough. "I hope I didn't make you wait too long."

"No, no," Erik smiled. "This little bundle of fabric decided he was cold," he glanced at his son who waved excitedly at Cécile from in-between the fabric of his jacket.

"Well we better get to the restaurant then," Cécile laughed. "Follow me," she chirped brightly.

Erik walked beside her, Halldór still in his arms – which Cécile found a mix of annoying and endearing.  
>Truth be told she'd love to interlock her arm with Erik's, but that was not happening as long as Halldór clung to his father's neck.<br>However; Cécile couldn't find the scene anything less than adorable.

"I hope you like Italian," she said as they rounded the corner.

"Yes…" Erik said before stopping dead in his tracks.  
>"Wait," he blinked and read the restaurant sign. "We're eating here?" the disbelief in his voice was enough to make Cécile grin.<p>

"Of course," she giggled. "I know the owners," she reassured him before beckoning him inside.

Erik stepped inside, flinching a little as the door slammed shut behind him.

A rather angry looking man was glaring at him and Erik instinctively stepped a little closer to Cécile.  
>Business lunches he could do. This place was far too fancy for his liking.<br>White table clothes? Never a good sign.

"We have a dress code," the man said rather bitterly.

"And it's really cold outside," Cécile replied and smiled at the man. "He's with me, Romano. Calm down," she tutted at the taller man and Erik was pleased to see the guy visibly shrink under her glare.  
>Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, he thought to himself.<br>Halldór seemed oblivious to it all at least, which he was very thankful for.  
>"Are you going to tell me you're denying us entry because he wanted to keep his son warm?" Cécile tapped her foot against the floor and glared.<p>

"No, of course not. Follow me," the man smiled politely. "I've got your table ready for you. Window seat. As requested," he added and bowed courteously as he pulled out a chair for Cécile.

Erik was left to pull out his own chair, placing Halldór down into it before removing his jacket.

Cécile's eyes widened as she spotted the pink and white dress Halldór was sporting.

"What a lovely outfit," she said.

"Thank you," Halldór blushed and stared at the table cloth shyly.

"I believe he wanted to match you," Erik chuckled as he took a seat himself opposite Cécile.

"Oh I see," Cécile smiled, genuinely flattered. "However, you're not quite there," she hummed.

"Sorry," Halldór mumbled quietly.

"No, no, don't be," Cécile shook her head and undid the ribbon in her hair. "Here," she said and handed it to Halldór. "Now it's complete," she smiled.

Halldór seemed ecstatic by the ribbon, hugging it tightly before demanding Erik to tie it in his hair.

"Okay, okay," Erik laughed and carefully tried to tie the ribbon into his son's hair.  
>It took him two tries before he gave up and tied it around his head like a headband instead.<p>

"There," Erik said, "If you want to wear it like Cécile you'll have to grow your hair out."

"I like my hair short," Halldór pouted.

"It looks just as good like that," Cécile said helpfully, pleased to see Halldór smile happily at her words.

"Prettiest kid in the restaurant," Erik said and tickled Halldór's stomach gently.

And the only one, Cécile added in her mind as she glanced around the restaurant and the sea of old faces.  
>Some people were staring at them, but quickly averted their gaze when they realised she had spotted them.<p>

'Idiots,' she thought to herself. Their table was by far the best and the most entertaining.

"I'm driving so no wine for me…" Erik mumbled. "But if you want wine then please be my guest," he added and smiled slightly.

"Oh no. I can't indulge on wine on my own when I have company, that simply wouldn't be right," Cécile shook her head and folded the wine list and placed it down, opting to look at the food instead.

"Are you sure?" Erik asked, feeling like he was perhaps ruining her dinner plans.

"I'm sure. Besides, drinking in front of children is a bad idea," she winked at him.

"Eh, well. Yes," Erik shrugged and glanced at Halldór who was pretending to read the Italian menu.

"Hello Cécile," a warm and friendly voice said.

"Hello Feliciano," Cécile greeted with a warm smile.

"Are you ready to order?" He asked.

"I am, but not sure about my date," Cécile giggled and turned to Erik who was peering at the menu and looking a little perplexed.

"My Italian is a bit rusty," he admitted. "I'm better at German," he added sheepishly.

"Well I would like the tagliatelle with tomato sauce please," Cécile closed her menu and handed it back to Feliciano.

"And for the gentleman and little lady?" Feliciano directed his question towards Erik.

"Boy," Erik corrected him.

"Oh, my apologies. Of course," Feliciano slapped his hand across his own face, "I do apologise. Should have guessed," he added with a light laugh. "I own some lovely dresses myself," he winked at Erik, who just smiled politely in turn.

"I want pizza," Halldór said, completely oblivious to the waiters slip up.

"Pizza for him then, and I'll try the risotto," Erik said as he took the menu away from Halldór and handed it back to the waiter.

"Certainly. And what can I get you for drinks?"

"Sparkling water for us two please," Cécile pointed at Erik.

"Apple juice for him if you have any, please," Erik said and gestured towards Halldór.

"Of course," Feliciano smiled brightly. "I won't be long."

Cécile wasn't sure what to say to break the silence, she was actually rather content just sitting there admiring Erik for a while.  
>He was easy on the eyes.<br>She could easily just admire him in silence, but that was sure to make him very uncomfortable.  
>Or inflate his ego.<br>Cécile wasn't sure if either was a good option.

"I like the choice of colour," she said to Halldór who was patting his hands all over the white table cloth, making little drumming noises.

"Hu?" Halldór looked up from the table and over at her.

"Your dress. It looks very cute,"  
>"Thank you," Halldór beamed before going back to making nonsensical noises.<p>

"It's his cousin's," Erik explained. "I babysit my brothers' kid a few times and she's left a few clothes at our place."

"Oh I see. Same age as Halldór then I take it?"

"Yes," Erik nodded. "A few months older but not by much."

"How sweet," Cécile giggled, looking over towards Halldór who was muttering something to himself.

"Your food," Felaciano interrupted with a smile.

"Thank you," Cécile replied, trying to hide her amusement as Erik almost had to dive to prevent Halldór from splashing tomato sauce all over the table and himself as he eagerly reached for a slice of pizza.

"We do not play with food," Erik reminded his son and Halldór apologised very quietly.

Cécile stifled a laugh as Erik produced a child sized plastic fork and knife for Halldór from inside his suit pocket.

"Magic pockets," she giggled.

"Yeah. It comes with fatherhood," Erik smiled. "I also have wet-wipes, napkins and, uh," he paused and rummaged through his pockets, producing a few small rocks, a feather and what appeared to be cheerios.  
>"I am certain I cleaned the pockets out this morning…" Erik muttered to himself.<p>

"Magic pockets," Cécile repeated with a grin. "There's no other explanation," she added.

"No. Clearly not," Erik chuckled.

"Faeries can do it too," Halldór said before taking a large bite of his pizza.

"True," Erik nodded. "Was it perhaps the faeries who said you could eat with your hands too?"

"Yes," Halldór nodded and giggled as he picked up another slice of pizza.

"Don't worry about it. No one will mind," Cécile reassured Erik with a gentle touch to his hand – and an accidental brush of her leg against his.

"Ah, yes, of course," Erik coughed and tried to hide the slow rise of red to his face.  
>"This looks really nice," he hurriedly added before taking a bite of his food.<p>

Cécile really wanted to tell him to calm down.  
>She really wished she could tell him she'd take him home on the spot if she could – and no amount of him being awkward was going to change it.<br>However; to preserve the man's dignity, she simply smiled courtly and focused on eating her own food as daintily as possible

It was Halldór who broke the silence between them.  
>The little boy reached over and tugged at his father's sleeve.<p>

"Dad," he whispered. "I wanna try your food," he said.

"Okay," Erik didn't even question it or argue, he just placed a tiny amount on his own fork and fed it to Halldór.  
>Cécile was sure she was having heart palpitations from the sheer cuteness.<p>

"I like pizza more," Halldór concluded with a frown before turning his attention to Cécile.  
>"Can I try yours too?" he asked carefully.<p>

"Of course," Cécile replied and followed Erik's example, a little worried she'd end up flinging tomato sauce all over Halldór's lovely dress.

Halldór opened wide and happily took a bite of her pasta, and judging by his expression he preferred it over Erik's food.

"Still like pizza better," Halldór said.

"That's fine. But you're good for trying new things," Erik praised and poked Halldór's cheek lightly.  
>"I'm proud of you," he added and Halldór positively beamed from the praise.<p>

"Very mature of you," Cécile joined in, finding it far to difficult not to be engaged in Halldór's little adventures in new cuisine.

"I'm an adult," Halldór proclaimed very proudly, straightening up in his chair and smoothing out the wrinkles in his dress.

"In a few years yes," Erik said and ruffled his hair. "But trust me, being a kid is fun too."

Halldór seemed to consider his father's words before nodding.  
>"If I was an adult I can't be in Cécile's classes," he mumbled.<p>

"You'd have to hire me as a private tutor," Cécile laughed.

"Does that mean you'd come home to our house and dance there?!" Halldór stood up in his chair and Erik had to hold a hand out to steady Halldór to keep him from tumbling off it.

"Possibly," Cécile giggled.

"You should, you should," Halldór smiled brightly. "Dad got me troll music."

"I got him Edvard Grieg's works on CD," Erik corrected quietly. "He won't stop referring to it as troll music."

"I see," Cécile smiled, unable to quote fathom just how adorable Halldór could be.  
>"I should probably get started on making new costumes for our new dance," she added as an after thought. "Not certain where to really start…"<p>

"Basic deigns? Then miniature prototypes?" Erik suggested. "Thought you wanted my help for this," he added with a smile.

"I almost forgot," Cécile sighed. "I keep thinking of you as an illustrator, not a costume designer," she tapped her fingers against the table as she spoke. "Although I suppose if you're good at one you're good at the other?"

"A little," Erik muttered and scratched the back of his head. "I can easily design some outfits, but you should probably have input considering you'll know if it's possible to dance in them or not. I probably have leftover fabric to use for miniatures…"

"I don't think I could say no to such a wonderful offer," Cécile smiled. "Just say the time and day that suits you and I'm sure we can work out something."

"Tonight," Halldór suggested and giggled happily to himself.

"No no," Erik tried very hard not to glare at his son. "You are already awake well past your bedtime."

"How about, hmmm," Cécile went through her mental calendar. "Next Monday? After Dance classes?"

"Uh," Erik fumbled for his phone, checking his calendar before nodding. "Sure. That works."

"Good," Cécile smiled, proud of herself for arranging a second date of sorts with him.

Her attention was diverted by the sound of Halldór snoring.

Erik sighed and shook his head at the sight of the little boy leaning on the table and sleeping soundly with a napkin as a pillow.

"I think maybe his bedtime is now…" Erik chuckled softly.

"Of course," Cécile smiled. "I'll take care of the bill, so just get him home safely."

"Oh but don't you want me to escort you, I mean, it's dark outside and I figured maybe…"

"It will be fine. I need to catch up with Feliciano anyway, he's been smiling something awful at me for the past hour," Cécile laughed.

"Oh, okay," Erik nodded, carefully picking up and bundling Halldór up in his suit jacket again.  
>"Do you want your ribbon back?" he whispered.<p>

"No, he can keep it."

"Thank you," Erik said.

"Come here," Cécile stood up and beckoned Erik closer. "Bend down, you're too tall," she added, smirking ever so slightly as Erik complied.  
>"Good night," she whispered and pressed a chaste kiss to Erik's cheek.<p>

"Ye-yes, good night. Thank you for tonight," Erik said, cheeks red stained – and not just from the trace of lipstick Cécile had left behind.

"See you Monday," she said as she waved them off.

It took exactly 10 seconds before Feliciano and his brother was at her table.

"Who's he?" Romano demanded to know, already pushing a glass of rose wine towards her.

"A very handsome man," Cécile smiled secretively.

"Yes, we can see that. But details," Feliciano replied.

"Haven't you two got people to attend to?" Cécile smiled smugly behind her glass of wine.

"Eh," Romano waved his hand. "This is more important."

"Of course," Cécile giggled. "But why don't I just join you in the bar and I'll tell you more?"

"Hrm, fine," Romano huffed. "But you only get that glass for free, the others will be triple in price" he added.

"He actually means that you can get the whole bottle," Feliciano whispered in her ear and Cécile smiled. They never changed.


	4. Chapter 4

Feliciano and Romano didn't let her leave until she had told them everything she knew about Erik.  
>Much to their displeasure she didn't know exactly how much he earned or if he had a big house.<p>

"So you're going after this DILF and you don't even know if he's rich?" Romano frowned. "Tch, you should do better research," he added.

"Oh please," Cécile brushed him off. "Did you not see how caring he was towards his son?"

"Not really. But I did notice he didn't pick the cheapest option on our menu," Romano scoffed.

"A good sign that," Feliciano piped up with as he wiped down the bar.  
>Everyone else had left, and it was just three three of them left – plus Antonio and Fernando working in the kitchen. Cécile could hear them arguing about something from time to time and then silence would fall over the restaurant once more.<p>

"Well, either way," she huffed. "He's gorgeous, kind, caring and so far worth my time."

"He has a kid," Romano hissed.

"Who's the epitome of cute," Cécile replied coolly. "They're both made of faeries and sugar," she added and sent him a stern glare.

"Okay, okay," Romano held his hands up. "I'll take your word for it. But if he hurts you, well then…"

"You won't do anything. Because you can't," Cécile giggled. "But thank you for the offer. Sadly Erik wouldn't believe you if you tried to pull the whole 'we're Italian and therefore totally know the mafia', he's not that stupid,"

"It's worked on a lot of people before," Romano smiled.

"Sure it has, but enough about gossip about me. What about you two?" Cécile leant on the bar counter and smiled smugly at them both.

"I asked Ludwig out!" Feliciano proclaimed proudly.

"Oh well done. What did he do?" Cécile was eager to know where this went.

"He dropped his keys, let go of all the leashes for his dogs and went bright red. It was really cute," Feliciano smiled fondly at the memory.

"And his reply?" she giggled.

"He said yes! Then I had to help him catch his dogs. It was really fun."

"I can imagine," she chuckled. "And you Romano? How did your date with my cousin go?"

"It was fine, but her brother is really, really scary and I think he hates me," Romano frowned.

"Oh don't worry. Maarten just looks mean, he keeps bunnies as pets and spends his free time gardening. He's harmless," Cécile smiled and flicked her braid over her shoulder.

"Harmless to you. You and Anika are good friends too. So of course your big, scary and grumpy cousin will be nice to you," Romano huffed.

"Nonsense. He's still a nice guy with an unfortunate frown," Cécile stifled a laugh.

"Well that Erik guy looked a bit like that too," Romano mused. "Not very many smiles to be found on him."

"Erik's mostly just shy I think…" Cécile hummed softy to herself. "When he thinks no one else is looking he smiles a lot. Especially to his son. Halldór probably monopolises his happy smiles," Cécile laughed at the idea.

"I can't believe you're dating a guy who's got a kid… And not even a rich guy either!" Romano sighed theatrically.

"I think Cécile's grown out of the idea of marrying someone just to bleed them dry," Feliciano said with a smile as he elbowed his brother in the side.

"He's not poor, I know that much," Cécile huffed. "And Halldór is too cute not to like. Besides, I earn more than enough myself these days, so why should I need to bleed someone dry?"

"Extra money for shopping?" Romano suggested with a smirk.

"Nonsense. That's what you and Francis are for," she winked at them both.

"Hm, true," Feliciano giggled. "Romano keeps telling me he thinks you need new shoes."

"Well she does!" Romano gestured wildly towards her feet with a frown. "These are at least a year old!"

"Rude," Cécile huffed.

"If you're really going to woe that man you've gotta get some new footwear," Romano crossed his arms and glared.

"I think I can walk around in slippers. Erik wouldn't notice or care," Cécile laughed softly. "But if you insist…"

"I do," Romano grumbled.

"Lovely, I'll see you next week then," Cécile winked.

"Ten o'clock, sharp," Romano nodded in agreement. "We better be there when the best shops open."

"Noted," Cécile giggled. "Just don't over sleep."

"We won't," Feliciano interjected with a grin.

Cécile left he resultant with a smile that simply could not falter.  
>She was excited about so many things at the same time it was impossible to sleep.<p>

She opted for reading a book for half an hour before she could even begin to think about crawling into bed.

Monday couldn't come soon enough.

The weekend passed too slowly in her mind. Sunday dragged on for what seemed like forever no matter how busy she kept herself.  
>She couldn't show up to this next meeting empty-handed, and after much consideration Cécile settled for a vintage red wine. If Erik liked this he was surely a keeper – and even Francis would have to agree.<p>

However, much to her dismay, neither Erik not Halldór showed up on Monday.

At first she hoped they were just running late, although eventually she had to give up waiting and start the lesson without the young boy.

A little part of her felt rejected.  
>Of course she wasn't she tried to argue as she helped the young kids tidy up the room once the lesson was over.<p>

Surely they were just busy.

Busy with something.

Cécile sighed deeply as she locked up the dance hall.

"Stupid," she muttered to herself.

Dejected, Cécile was just about to head home when a familiar car pulled into the parking lot.

"Hei," Erik said sheepishly as he stepped out of the car. "I'm really sorry," he added.  
>"I got very carried away. Halldór caught a bug and hasn't been well all weekend. Little food, next to no sleep and it's just been very stressful," Erik explained quietly.<p>

"Oh," Cécile let out a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry to hear he's unwell," she added, hoping Erik didn't think she wanted Halldór to be sick.

"I was going to phone you, but I hit a little problem when I realised I didn't actually have your number…" Erik ran a hand through his hair and Cécile could see the dark circles under his eyes – much more prominent than usual.

"I know I promised to help you…"

"Why don't we postpone it a little?" Cécile said. "We can just relax tonight. I think you need it," she smiled.

"Eh, well. That would be nice. But I have to be at home. Just in case Halldór wakes up and needs something."

"Of course," Cécile smiled and held the bottle of wine up for him to see. "But a bottle of wine can be drunk at home too," she added with a laugh.

"Oh, well in that case," Erik smiled ever so slightly and Cécile suppressed the temptation to smile triumphantly.  
>Instead she let herself into the car before Erik could protest, handbag and wine bottle in her lap as she waited patiently for Erik to scramble back into the car as well.<p>

"The house isn't the cleanest, just as a warning," he said, somewhat embarrassed.

"Don't mind. Enough wine will make everything go away anyway," she replied and flashed him a smile.

"True," Erik chuckled.

His house was almost as she expected it to be.  
>Not too small, not too large. A perfect size for a small family in the quiet side of the city.<p>

A swing-set in the garden, coupled with various flowers and a few trees that looked like they had been climbed a lot by a certain little boy.

"How cute," she said softly as Erik unlocked the door and gestured for her to step inside.

"Thanks," he replied. "Hang on. I'm sure I've got spare slippers somewhere…" he added with a mumble and rummaged through the bottom of the wardrobe in the hallway.

Cécile was somewhat amused by the pair he produced. They looked handmade and a little worn, but she had to admit that hey were very comfortable.  
>Clearly she was right. Erik really wouldn't care if she wore old slippers.<p>

"You call this messy?" she mused out loud as Erik showed her to the living room. Sure; there were some toys strews about and some blankets looked like they should be folded up neatly instead of strewn across the floor and furniture – but it was hardly bad.

"Usually I keep it rather neat, all things considered given Halldór's age. But this weekend has been rather tough for him so I'm afraid cleaning went off the to-do-list very quickly," Erik explained as he bent down to pick up a teddy-bear from the floor.

"You just find two wineglasses and forget all about your responsibilities for a while," Cécile commanded him with a small smile. "You need to relax a little too."

"I'll try," Erik said with a sigh as he returned with two glasses, pleased to see Cécile had made herself comfortable on the sofa already.

"Try harder," Cécile said sternly and handed him the wine.

"Yes Ma'm," Erik said before making a low whistle.  
>"Are you sure we can drink this?" he pointed to the wine. "It's a very expensive one…"<p>

"Of course. If you like red wine then it's perfect."

"I like all wine," Erik laughed as he opened the bottle and poured them both a glass.

"Cheers to that then," Cécile raised her glass.

"Yes. Cheers," Erik replied, clinking their glasses together before taking a careful sip.

Cécile watched as he raised his eyebrows and stared at the red wine in awe.  
>"Wow. That is good," he mumbled.<p>

"I know," she giggled.

Half a bottle of wine each later, Erik was close to nodding off on the sofa despite his best attempts at staying awake.  
>Cécile nudged him a little and gave him a sweet smile.<p>

"You need to sleep," she said sternly. "You can tell me the rest of your ideas tomorrow."

"Yeah. Just need to make the guest bed up for you first," Erik mumbled sleepily.

"Oh, no room in your bed for little me?" she asked and smiled.

"I…uh," Erik's cheeks went almost as red as the wine he'd drunk. "Well, if you don't mind then of course," he managed to utter hurriedly.

"Of course not," Cécile giggled as she rose from the sofa, dragging Erik up with her. "It's a cold night and you're a perfect oven," she added with a wink.

Erik led her upstairs, pausing only momentary as he clearly debated what to do next.

"Can I borrow a t-shirt?" she asked and gestured to his wardrobe.

Erik only nodded before he slowly began unbuttoning his shirt.

Cécile rid herself of her clothes much faster than him and happily crawled into the bed, watching Erik frantically fumble with his buttons.

She stifled a giggle as he eventually got both his shirt and trousers off, climbing into bed in only boxers.

"Is this okay?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes," Cécile nodded and shuffled closer to him. "I certainly don't mind if you don't," she added.

"Not at all," Erik whispered softly.

"Good," Cécile sighed happily, resting her head against his chest. She could hear his heart racing, although it eventually slowed as the exhaustion took over all other emotions.

"Good night," she whispered softly and gave him a quick peck to his jawline.

"Night," Erik mumbled sleepily in return and wound his arm around her waist.

This, Cécile thought to herself, felt just perfect.

The sound of his breathing, coupled with the rise and fall of his chest and his steady heartbeat made for a great lullaby.

This she could get very used to she decided. Very, very used to.


	5. Chapter 5

Cécile awoke groggily to the sound of the bedroom door creaking open and a distinct sound of two small feet pitter-pattering across the wooden floor.

She wasn't at all surprised to hear Halldór weakly ask for his father, his voice still hoarse from what she assumed had probably been days of coughing.

"Awake already?" Erik mumbled sleepily as he lifted Halldór up into the bed, the little boy quick to crawl under the blankets. If Cécile didn't find him utterly adorable she'd be a little jealous that he had just stolen Erik's chest as a pillow from her.

"Puffin said trolls eat those who sleep late," Halldór whispered.

"Today is a sleeping late day," Erik explained softly and gently ran his hand over Halldór hair.

"Oh," Halldór uttered weakly before turning his still sleepy gaze towards Cécile.  
>Her heart was surely beating twice as fast. He regarded her with a slight confused look and for a moment Cécile was terrified she'd made a mistake.<br>What would Halldór think about her sharing a bed with her father? Would he be angry? Confused?

"Did you have a sleepover?" Halldór asked and frowned.

"Yes," Erik chuckled.

"You didn't invite me," Halldór's frown turned into a pout and Cécile let out a sight of relief. So far so good, she thought.

"We thought you should get better first," she explained.

"Don't worry," Erik added. "We didn't build any pillow forts without you."

"Good," Halldór smiled and slid off his father's chest, snuggling himself up in-between Cécile and Erik.

Silence settled comfortably over them as Halldór hummed happily to himself. Erik shifted a little and Cécile welcome his arm wriggling itself under and around her shoulders, pulling her and Halldór snugly up to himself.

"Dad, no," Halldór giggled happily, wriggling and trying not to laugh as Erik's free hand ticked his stomach.

"How cruel you are to the poor boy," Cécile laughed, her own hand trailing up Erik's sides as she watched his eyes widen. A devilish grin spread across her lips, she had clearly just discovered his weak spot.

"Don't you dare," he whispered and Cécile smiled wickedly at him before digging her fingers into his sides.

She wasn't sure who was laughing the most out of them.  
>Erik from being tickled, Halldór from watching his father at the mercy of Cécile's hand or Cécile herself who unapologetically had the most wicked and stupid smile on her face as she reduced Erik to laughter and tears.<p>

"Not fair," Erik whined as Halldór decided to help Cécile. "Two against one isn't fair at all."

"Yes it is, you're the tallest," Halldór reasoned.

"Precisely," Cécile nodded in agreement as they all sat up properly, Erik's cheeks still flushed red and chest heaving from laughing too hard.

"I'll get you both back for that," Erik eventually muttered somewhat sinisterly.

"Oh no. How shall we cope?!" Cécile smiled and winked at Halldór.

"Send him to the trolls?" Halldór replied with a serious tone, which just sent them all off in fits of giggles once more.

Halldór was the one to steer the moment away from a full day laying about in bed.

"I'm hungry," he whined and crawled into his father's lap.

"What do you want then?" Erik asked, pleased his son had an appetite again.

Halldór's face looked thoughtful for a moment before he announced with glee that he wanted eggs scrambled.

"Scrambled eggs?" Cécile repeated a little puzzled.

"No, no," Erik shook his head. "Scrambled eggs is eaten cold with smoked salmon. Eggs Scrambled is eaten warm on toast," he explained and winked.

"Ohhh," She smiled knowingly and looked at Halldór who is trying to slide of the bed legs first, his stuffed toy puffin still in hand.

"Go find your slippers," Erik told Halldór before the kid could run out the door and down the stairs.

Cécile shivered as her bare feet touched the cold floor, feeling a little silly and embarrassed that she was still in Erik's oversized t-shirt.

"Need a dressing gown?" Erik asked her and Cécile nodded.

Although neither her or Erik could hide their amusement as she wrapped herself up in the dark blue dressing gown – completely swamped by the sheer size of it.

"I think I'd fit one of Halldór's better," she sighed and held her hands out, flapping the sleeves around and swatting Erik with them.

"Maybe," Erik hummed with amusement as he watched the dressing gown trail behind her as she walked.  
>"Then again, we can just pretend it's a royal gown of sort."<p>

"Excellent. Halldór did say I was Queen," she mused with a sly smile.

"True. Suppose I should offer you breakfast then, your highness?" Erik made a half-hearted attempt at bowing which only made Cécile smile more.

"Breakfast would be very nice, thank you," she replied and tried to shorten the dressing gown.

"Here," Erik muttered and helped her double it a little up before tying it over the fold; allowing her to walk without tripping.

"Thank you," she replied, tiptoeing up and giving him a soft kiss.

"Welcome," he uttered softly, the word barely above a mumble.

"Come on, before Halldór decides to try to cook the food himself," she smiled.

"Oh gods I hope not," Erik looked momentarily horrified as he pulled on a t-shirt (much to Cécile's dismay).  
>"Did I tell you about the time he tried to cook breakfast for me last fathers-day?"<p>

"No, do tell," Cécile's eyes lit up in glee.

"Granted his mother did tell me it was partly her fault," Erik shrugged. "But anyway, he woke me up with a home made card and then disappeared downstairs. I figured he was playing in the living room, but turns out he had tried to make toast and fried eggs on his own."

"Let me guess, eggs and bread everywhere?" Cécile stifled a laugh.

"I don't know how he got eggs on the ceiling, but he did," Erik sighed.

"Trolls maybe?" she offered.

"Oh yes. Definitively the trolls," Erik chuckled.

Thankfully Halldór hadn't tried to make scrambled eggs himself, leaving that culinary feat to his father.  
>Cécile made them coffee, sipping it slowly as she watched Erik slowly stir the eggs over a low heat, Halldór clinging to his legs and telling him to make at least double portions.<p>

"Butter on your toast?" Erik turned momentarily, directing his question towards Cécile.

"Oh why not. I'll indulge a little," she replied with a smile behind the brim of her coffee cup.

"Good answer," Erik replied with a wink, and Cécile was most pleased with the appearance of a slice of toast topped with a generous helping of scrambled eggs.  
>Or in Halldór's words: Eggs scrambled.<p>

Much to Cécile's surprise, it was genuinely delicious.  
>With the addition of salt and pepper of course – although she figured it was probably better for Halldór to have a more 'bland' diet, and Erik confirmed this when he handed her the salt and pepper and told her she was allowed to add as much as she wanted.<p>

She helped him with the dishes while Halldór ran around the living room making plane noises and occasionally talking to his stuffed animals about his upcoming show.

"He's rehearsing," Erik explained.

"I'm glad he's excited," She mused.

"He's made a troll tail and everything," Erik chuckled.

"Really?"

"Yes. It's right now some rope and a ruined pillowcase, but hey, it's something," Erik smiled fondly.

"Well that's further than I've gotten with the costumes for this show," Cécile sighed.

"Doesn't have to be much more complicated than that really," Erik reassured her. "I don't think trolls are known for their good sense of style," he hummed.

"I'm not that familiar with the lifestyles of trolls..." Cécile stifled a laugh.

"Halldór can tell you all about it," Erik winked. "In the meantime, why don't we brainstorm a little over some more coffee?"

"A most excellent plan," Cécile smiled brightly.

Brainstorming alone in the kitchen lasted for 15 minutes until Halldór demanded their presence.

Coffee cup in hand, Cécile found herself on the living room floor watching Halldór do cartwheels until he was dizzy.

Between the little boy's commotion and energy, Erik occasionally passed her some sketches of possible outfits.

The first three would be too heavy, the fourth had too much fabric.  
>The fifth and sixth were too complicated (albeit stunningly beautiful, Cécile swore to herself that one day she'd get those made too).<p>

However, Erik's seventh suggestion was perfect.

Some simple green or brown fabric, ripped and sown together again.  
>A dab of dark green paint to it and coupled with a messy and uneven tutu made for the perfect 'troll' costume for a bunch of excited 4-7 year old children.<br>Tails could be made from rough rope and wool.

"You said the older group wanted troll costumes too?" Erik mused out loud.

"Yes. Their dance will be a bit more complicated.."

"What light have you got available at the night?" Erik asked.

"Whatever we need usually... why?" Cécile looked at him with curiosity and interest.

"Well... If you can get some ultraviolet light of sorts we can just splash the outfits full of UV and glow paint, making them all a bit more 'eerie'," he mused.

"Oh," Cécile's eyes lit up at the idea. "Wonderful. That would certainly put a new spin to their dance."

"And it won't require much more work for their costumes," Erik added with a wink.

"Has anyone ever told you you're a genius?"

"Only him," Erik pointed to Halldór who was trying to build a pillow fort on his own.

"Nonsense," Cécile huffed and leaned in closer to Erik. "You should hear it more," she said and kissed his cheek – very satisfied he still blushed at her actions.

"Thank you," Erik managed to mumble. "We should maybe plan how to make these costumes, and where to get the fabric..."

"I've got an older brother who can find all the fabric we need. And I'll get some help from my friend to make them, don't worry."

"Need me any more?"

"Probably not for this," Cécile smiled. "But don't think I won't make you stick around regardless," she winked, oblivious so the sight of relief that escaped Erik.

"Oh good. I was worried I'd started to scare you off," he mumbled.

"If that's your plan you're doing an awful job at it," Cécile laughed and shuffled closer to Erik. "I find all of this to be very pleasant," she waved her hand around for emphasis. "And I'd rather not give it away if I can help it."

"Me too," Erik whispered.

Cécile sighed happily and rested her head on his shoulders, laughing softly as Halldór covered them with a blanket and told them they had to help him build a fort.

Moment ruined, she thought without a trace of bitterness. Smiling genuinely and happily as she watched Erik pull the cushions off the sofa and pile them on the floor.

Thirty minutes later they were eating waffles and reading fairy-tales in the pillow fort. Halldór happily sitting in Cécile's lap as Erik read them both a story.

'This', she thought as Halldór smiled up at her, 'Is perfect.'

Nothing short of perfect.


End file.
